Chapter 11
NOELLE
I stared at my driver’s progress on my phone and leaned forward. “Can’t you go a little faster?”
“I’m not getting a ticket because you’re late.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror briefly before he turned up the Europop on his radio.
I slumped back in my seat. It was all Matt’s fault.
I couldn’t leave Jane until Matt got back to his place, and Matt sauntered in twenty minutes late.
Although, maybe Matt did me a favor. If I missed the bus, I wouldn’t have to travel down to San Diego for two hours staring at Conor in close quarters.
Who was I kidding? If I missed the bus, I wouldn’t have a job.
Why’d Nolan have to play basketball the very week the tour started—and why was he such a klutz? I thought only professional athletes tore their ACLs. Who’d he think he was, a five-foot, eight-inch Luka Doncic?
My Uber driver did step on it once we hit Pershing and deposited me in front of the open gate five minutes later. He even helped me with my bags.
Ham, standing guard, waved me through. “You’re late.”
“Hey, I didn’t tell on you. You’d better not tell on me.” I ran my finger along the seam of my lips.
“It’s all good. They’re still loading the bags.” He jabbed a sausage finger at my rolling suitcase with my carry-on perched on top. “You need help with that?”
“You’d better watch the gate. We don’t want a repeat of the other day.”
“You’re right.” He stepped back to the entrance and crossed his arms over his broad chest—just to make sure nobody got any funny ideas. “You’re in the front bus.”
“The front?” I rounded the corner of the first studio building and almost dropped the handle of my suitcase.
Behind the bus Conor and I had toured, another, larger bus idled, spewing diesel fumes in the air. Of course, we needed a second bus. Most of the stage crew would be on that bus. Maybe I could sneak onto that one.
Jermaine spotted me and waved. “About time. How are you going to document anything when you’re not here for the kick-off?”
“If there’s no room left for me, I can ride with the crew.” I rolled my suitcase past the bags piled up outside the first bus, but Jermaine grabbed the handle. “You’re on this bus with the musicians. Don’t worry. There’s one bunk left.”
“We hardly need a bunk for a two-hour drive to San Diego.”
Jermaine tapped his watch. “Make that three hours now, and no, we won’t be sleeping on this trip, at least most of us won’t, but we still need our assigned bunks.”
Waving at the unloaded luggage, I said, “Doesn’t look like I held anything up.”
“No, but you’re essential.” He snapped at one of the guys loading the bags. “Make sure these get on board.”
I slipped my carry-on from the top of my suitcase. “I’m keeping this one with me.”
I stepped onto the bus, and the people on board, laughing, chatting, singing, eating, and making themselves at home infused it with life. Excitement thrummed through my veins.
Jermaine crowded me from behind. “Your bunk is upstairs.”
I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and climbed to the second level, which sounded like a library compared to the noise below. I immediately spotted Conor’s blond head bent over his phone in his hands, sitting on a top bunk.
He glanced up. “Thought you’d abandoned us.”
If only I could.
“My pet setter was late. Jermaine said I had the last open bunk up here.”
Conor pointed both thumbs down, and it took me a minute to realize he wasn’t just giving my statement a negative response—he was actually gesturing...to the bunk below his.
This had to be a joke. I had to sleep below Conor?
I adjusted my glasses to be sure. “That’s the only bunk left? Below yours?”
Rhys, the drummer, poked me in the back with his drumstick. “You snooze, you lose. Right below Conor—worst bunk on the bus.”
I didn’t know what Rhys meant, but it couldn’t possibly be the same thing I meant.
“Aren’t these bunks separated by gender or something?” My gaze flicked along the rows of occupied spaces.
“What do you think this is? Primary school?”
Rhys drummed a beat on my shoulder, and I brushed him off. “Will you stop? I’m beginning to think the absolute worst bunk would be anywhere near you.”
Conor choked out a laugh. “You tell him, Noelle. I’m not such a bad lad to sleep with.”
My heart thudded in my chest. Was I going to have to endure Conor’s double-entendres for six weeks—while I slept below him?
Conor shook his head. “I mean beneath, I mean...you know what I mean. Shut up, Rhys.”
Rhys chortled behind me.
“This is gonna be like a frat house in here with you two.” I narrowed my eyes at Conor. “Did you slip something in Robbie’s food or something to make him sick so you could replace him with your sidekick?”
The tour’s original drummer had to cancel, and Conor was quick to suggest Rhys, a drummer who worked with Five2Go after I left and joined Conor on some solo tours. They seemed close, but that was a good thing. Someone to keep Conor occupied and his attention off me.
Because that’s what I absolutely wanted.
“You want me to put your bag away for you? There’s a storage area at the foot of the bed that’s perfect for a carry-on.” Conor hopped off his bed and shoved his phone in his back pocket. “I swear I don’t snore. We’ll be staying in the hotel once we get to San Diego, anyway.”
“Right, and then we have Phoenix, so we might not be sleeping on the bus for that trip, either.” I wiped a sweaty palm on the thigh of my jeans.
“See?” He spread his hands. “Easy”
Nothing was going to be easy about this tour. I walked toward him, keeping my bag between us. “Has anyone heard from Ashley since the concert?”
Conor lifted my bag and stashed it in the cubby at the end of my bed, the muscles of his back bunching and flexing beneath his cotton T-shirt. He’d been a skinny boy when we were together, and my fingers tingled at the prospect of tracing all those new muscles.
Not that there was a prospect of that—at all.
“I have not heard from Ashley, but then I didn’t expect her to be on the bus.
She had some bullshit excuse for why she had to fly.
At least Ji-yoon has a valid reason. Her manager has her on a whole other, parallel promo gig.
We’re not gonna see much of her.” He stashed the bag and turned around so fast, I had to back up. “Should we be worried about Ashley?”
“Orlando called me last night to tell me Ashley had checked into the hotel, so at least we know she’s going to be there.”
But I was worried. Ashley had gone radio silent after Charlie’s party. Had she seen the photos of Conor and the speculation online? I half expected her to call the gossip sites to reveal the stunt between her and Conor to avoid the public humiliation of her man cheating on her again.
A look was not a cheat. Get a grip, Noelle.
I scooped in a deep breath. Probably meant nothing. Silence was better than screaming over the phone or tattling to the entertainment reporters.
I asked, “Is her stylist Shanice downstairs? I didn’t see her when I came in—just a bunch of grubby guys down there playing video games.”
Conor and Rhys high-fived around me and Conor said, “Ah, tour life.”
“Is Shanice the baddie with the braids and the cowboy boots?” Rhys stuck his tongue out in a disgusting manner.
“Eww.” I pushed past Rhys. “That sounds like Shanice, but she’s way out of your league.”
“Bro...” Conor punched Rhys’s shoulder. “Looks like Noelle has made you her honorary brother. Get ready for the shade.”
“Is that what you are, Con...” Rhys’s gaze slid sideways to Conor “...her honorary brother?”
I turned my back on Conor’s answer and called over my shoulder. “I’m going to find Shanice.”
Once on the first level, I almost bumped into Jade, her phone out, scanning the interior of the bus.
She tapped her screen with one long nail and peeked at me above the phone. “If you’re looking for Shanice, she’s not here. She took the flight with Ashley.”
“What are you doing?” I gestured toward Jade’s phone, encased in a sparkly cover. Reminded me of the Bizzy Blondes’ phones.
“This is my first tour on the road, and I wanna document everything.”
I mumbled under my breath. “Dina should’ve given you Nolan’s assignment.”
“What?” Jade batted her false eyelashes.
Jade could definitely help with reporting on the tour. “If you’re going to record everything, anyway, do you want to help publicize the tour on socials?”
Jade placed a hand to her throat, her fingers tangling with several necklaces. “I’d love to do that.”
As the bus growled to life and everyone cheered, I tapped a tabletop with two connected chairs. “Let’s sit for a minute and discuss this.”
Thirty minutes, twenty miles, and several delegated tasks later, I stood up and stretched. “This is going to be so helpful, Jade. Thanks.”
I knew Jade would be hyped to do this for free, but I was the last person to take advantage of a young woman with stars in her eyes. I’d arrange payment with Dina for Jade. I’d still be writing most of the copy and overseeing her posts, but I’d just off-loaded a big headache.
Now, if I could only off-load from this bus.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time for a message from Ashley...nothing. I also snuck a look at the socials to see if the drama over the pics of me and Conor at the concert had subsided.
Despite someone from Ashley’s fanbase doing a three-part dissection of the photos and their meaning, it seemed as if the social media world had moved onto a scandal involving two rappers and the swapping of back-up dancers.
I rolled my shoulders and relaxed my muscles for the first time since boarding the bus to hell. The musicians had already raided the snack cupboard and deposited themselves on the sofas in the lounge area in front of one TV playing videos on YouTube and another TV dedicated to Fortnite.
Rhys waved at me. “Have a seat and grab me a water on the way. We can squeeze you in.”